Christmas Time is Here
by Atheniandream
Summary: Mike is still in Jeopardy. Rachel is a lonely island. Harvey and Donna are split in the middle. And all is suspended over the Holidays. POST 5.10. *FINISHED*
1. Christmas Time is Here

Summary:

 _Mike is still in Jail. Rachel is a lonely island. Harvey and Donna are split in the middle._

 _Notes:_

 _Post 5x10._

 _Apologies I've literally been MIA. Unlike a lot of fabulous writers out there, I haven't been able to get myself away from the way Suits left thier mid season finale enough to write! Here is a fic. I think._

 _Merry Christmas guys! xx_

* * *

Christmas Time is Here

By Atheniandream

* * *

The ongoing situation has put a strain on every single person in the firm.

And the word 'Fraud' hangs over _Pearson Specter Litt_ like a red mark in a condemned part of town, like a scarlet letter that they've all been forced to wear out in the open. A mere contrast to their usual close-door policy.

The glittering world of New York suddenly has _Sin City_ written all over it. Scandal flowing freely like freshly mulled wine.

Donna the Great has is...late. Fumbling through her things, her woollen coat flapping about herself.

She's been like that lately. A bridge between two cities. _A steadily wearing bandage on a still seeping wound._

She balances her job, Louis, _her boyfriend Mitchell_ and Rachel too, with the arms of an omniscient octopus and an gradually addled mind.

Over-effiency with just a dash of revolving panic.

And to be honest, it's driving her a little crazy now. This flitting between the two. In her job, she can handle it in spades and more. But not in her private life, and certainly not when it concerns two people she loves the most. In effect, it drags them all in like a slow moving tornado; threatening to knock all of them down like a row of uneven cards.

She pauses for a moment, finding the card she was looking for, as it rests in a pale pink envelope underneath a stack of papers.

She huffs, pausing briefly, looking about the place at the scattering of her life.

 _Her beautiful apartment has never looked so unsettled._

The passing of time jolts in her memory, as she fishes her phone out of her deep pocket.

 _ **She's really very late.** Well that's just great, _she thinks to herself, grabbing her bag.

As she opens the door, she almost gasps at the person stood on the other side, her body taking in the surprise before a torrent of spiking anger rips into her voice:

 _ **~She gasps, thready and feminine when his thumb pokes under her ribcage. Something so seemingly sexual about the act when he's in her so deeply that she can almost feel him at her back teeth with every demanding thrust….~**_

She blinks the memory away. " **What the hell are you doing here**?" She spits at the offending visitor, taking a step forward, as her coat swishes like a bell. "I told you never to come here." She breathes, adding "Again."

"Donna," The voice drops with a timetable disappointment.

"Harvey," She sighs, looking exasperated. "Now is _**not**_ the time."

Harvey Specter pushes past her and back into her apartment, a sweeping motion as his own darker wool coat brushes past hers. A motion akin to batman, and oddly out of context of their somewhat ordinary life.

Considering that there are no real heroes in this world.

"We need to talk. **Now**." He says gruffly, his hands sliding into his pockets like a limp defence.

Harvey Specter has been under a mountain of shit.

And coping well, by all accounts. Despite all that is at risk, the wild seriousness of his life seems to be tuning him back up from his previous low point.

If Donna weren't so annoyed at his presence, she might perhaps regard the face.

Her shoulders slump, as she quickly turns, her eyes following his retreating form.

He's smart, going deep into her lounge and far away from the door. The thought aggravates her further.

 _Back to the scene of the crime. The typical kind of shit only he would play...:_

 _ **~He'd never kissed like that before. Hungry and possessive. He'd never projected that passion that she suspected he had in fact hidden all those times. She knew deep in her gut that it had always been there. Lying under a cracked veneer of unfeeling. But only when his moist cheek slid against hers it was truly as if they had finally found each other. The two halves, separate and hidden so very long ago…~**_

"Harvey," She demands, slamming the door behind her in frustration before she walks over to meet him. " **Look** ," She states, her eyes wide and commanding. "It was... _just_ sex. Okay?" She states. "Just. Sex. It was a...stupid, drunken mistake at a really difficult time for both of us and we just... _channelled it..._ in the wrong way. That's all. A mistake." She repeats.

"A mistake… _?_ " His eyebrow twitches to match the determined and challenging look in his eye. "Really? That's _all_ you got?"

"Harvey," She sighs deeply. _**Of all the things going on with all of them, this is oddly at the bottom of her list right now.**_ _There are truly bigger things than them._ "I _have_ a boyfriend. You know that...you've met him. So...why are you even here?" She asks, letting half a beat to rest before the thought occurs to her. "And for that matter, why are you not disgusted at the fact. _**At me**_. Considering what your Mother did?"

It's a gamble to bring her up. But she's already played with fire. And now she has a waning schedule to line back up in record time...

"What the hell does _she_ have to do with this?" He fires at her, gesturing between them as his temper rises quickly, all the prominent angles in his face peeking out. "Donna, **_this_** is _not_ that." He tells her.

"What do you want from me, Harvey?" She bends then, her voice peeling with unnecessary feeling like a dog lying down on its own intent. This would all be fine...handleable at least on _any_ other day. But she's late. And Rachel is fragile right now. And she needs her. "Look, I'm late to see Rachel." She gestures defensively. "I **can not** do this with you right now."

His eyes narrow at her words, a disbelieving look that reaches all the way to his puffed out chest. His stance squares at her then. Examining the cracks. Her head tilts at him in a silent question. Something he used to do and she used to copy not so long ago.

His face is unreadable for the smallest of moments, and a trickle of fear laden sweat runs down her back at the many prospects, until he suddenly says. "Fine. Let's go." His voice is resolute as he strides past her once more.

"Oh, ho. **No**!" She objects with a roundness. "You are _not_ coming with me to see her."

"Why not?" He shrugs, poker faced then.

It only occurs to her in that moment.

 _He doesn't believe her. Doesn't believe that this is merely a moment of bad timing._

 _He thinks she's fobbing him off._

Her shoulders slump against the annoyance. She doesn't want him to come. Rachel doesn't know and doesn't need to know right now. _Or ever_.

She wanders to the elevator and curses him when she notices two more feet step into the elevator beside her. She leans forward to press the button, and isn't entirely surprised when he presses it before her. She looks up to his slightly higher eyeline, watching his cheekbones twitch with an oddly entertained smile.

"You're an asshole." She says plainly.

"Now, that's not nice." He plays, somehow entertained and wounded at the same time.

She rolls her eyes.

 _Jerk._

How she ever let him in her vagina a second time she'll never quite work out.

When the elevator opens, she walks out first and onto the sleat ridden sidewalk.

There is no snow this year. It's a shame. New York is so beautiful in the fall. And it's nearly almost followed by a White Christmas.

Like in the movies. Glistening and Romantic and inviting. An intense sense of magic and cinnamon in the air.

However, this is year the air is a tense and unwelcome mixture of fog and grey skies. Cold and warm spells that catch you buy surprise.

It couldn't represent the greyness of their lives any better than right now.

"Where's Ray?" She blinks, a mottled confusion on her face as she glances along each direction of the street.

"It's almost Christmas time." He shrugs. "I gave him an extended holiday."

"Wow." She regards. Not what she expected given the chaos surrounding them. "And Gretchen?" She asks.

"Gretchen _likes_ to work." He clarifies, rolling his eyes.

"You _used_ to give _me_ the holidays off?" She queries the discrepancy.

He gives her a look then. "Your family live three hours away," He says. "Gretchen's family live in the city." He reasons defensively, shrugging then.

She doesn't know why she's challenging his motive really.

She's understanding now. Very painstakingly. How she is so very different to all the others.

She looks away after a moment, taking one more step towards the road as her hand flags down a yellow cab.

They slide into the cab in silence. Donna makes a point of placing her bag of things in between them.

 _So he can't get close._ She mentally shakes herself. She never had to arm herself against the advances of Harvey Specter before.

 _Oh, How times had changed._

"Where to?" The cab driver calls vaguely into the back.

* * *

Everybody knew that it would hit Rachel hard. Problem was...she had nowhere to go now.

Everybody knew. Her parents. The Justice department. Everybody.

She was a virtual laughing stock. The rookie Lawyer in training with a Fraudster for a fiance.

All eyes were pointed firmly on them. And Rachel had never been emotionally solid. Soft at heart and heart always showing.

She was holding up as best she could.

But it didn't make her feel any less than a fraud by proxy.

She had been holding onto her cup of coffee so tightly that she almost split the whole thing when the knock from the door echoed out into the winding hallway.

She had taken to ignoring the many pictures on the walls. The carefree splattering of Mike calling out from every corner.

When she finally opens the door she frowns minutely, looking at her friend's strange expression and then to:

"Hey Donna. Harvey?" She blinks, frowning with mild interest at her Boss.

"Yeah." Donna sighs incredulously. "Harvey…thought he'd come see you too." Her voice bends unnaturally at the end with what both assume is sarcasm.

Rachel nods intently. "Actually that's good…" Seeming un-fazed by the nuance.

"Why?" Donna frowns then, worry etching her face.

"Because I need to see Mike." She tells them both.

They look at one another. Then back to her.

"I know it's only been a week...but...I _need_ to see him." She states, nodding herself into the decision.

* * *

Rachel had only seen him once. Snowed down with the backlash of press and gossip surrounding his arrest, Harvey had demanded she keep a low profile. And that meant not making too many visits to see him.

She had to appear innocent. Blind to the fact. Because if they found out that she knew then she could be a likely accessory in the eyes of the court. And should the firm go down, it would leave her nowhere to go after graduation. Even if her father changed his currently discordance tune.

Harvey - with Mike's assistance - had devised an escape route for every single one of them. Jessica. Louis. Both uninformed and deemed innocent. Rachel. An unfortunate bystander, of course. Leaving only Mike, Harvey and Donna.

Now Donna had first been deemed innocent. By both of the men. Until she'd insisted that given her reputation she would have known from the off. Given her and Harvey's past closeness and almost felony to her, it seemed the likeliest account of the truth.

The dispute of that fact, of Donna's seeming involvement had started as Harvey's impassioned attempt to leave her exempt from all of it. _A silent token_. But following Donna's refusal to accept this as a plausible course of action, and partly because she just couldn't help it, their situation had quickly escalated to a fight.

A fight...that led them to their current... _situation_.

And one more appearance of the definitive 'L' word.

* * *

In order to avoid Harvey's strange insistence now, Donna had somehow managed to ensconce poor Rachel in between the two of them as a well needed buffer. She had only begun to relax, the thought of being once again pressed against the man whom she'd been so recently and intimately engaged with throwing up red flags of anxiety when they had hailed the cab.

They sat in silence now, three little mice on the way to Mike's location.

* * *

Mike Ross had received bail two days after the shit hit the fan.

Harvey had offered, rather pointedly that the only way to keep everyone out of it was if they made out like he had...operated alone. A lone wolf in a sea of innocents. And that meant not returning to his home with his supportive fiancé.

It wouldn't put Rachel in the best of lights, given the circumstances.

Had she just been a mere housewife, there would have been a little more rope to play with.

But they were members of an inner circle. Every single one of them with a red and white target on their back.

 _And too many enemies lying in wait with poison arrows._

Mike ended up holed up in his old apartment of all places - which had been vacant - much to everyone's lack of surprise.

* * *

Donna watches, Harvey in tow next to her as Rachel knocks rather abruptly on the door.

"Who is it?" A voice calls rather angrily.

"Your fiancée!" Rachel answers abruptly.

The pounding of feet stops, an almost silence emitting through the door.

"You shouldn't be here." He calls through the closed door.

Rachel's shoulders slump then, her voice regaining its sombre quality. "Open the door, Mike." She asks.

They all wait, as the two locks disengage, the door swinging open to reveal an image that Harvey hasn't seen for a _very_ long time.

 _Mike_. In his boxers. Scruffy looking. Defeated. Lacking any drive and resolute to an oncoming defeat.

Rachel glide forwards instinctively, wrapping herself around his unruly form.

"What are you doing here?" Mike mumbles into her hair, a shock in his voice as his eyes flick between his friends.

Rachel looks up then, a look of defiance on her suddenly animated face.

"I know you did this to protect me. I get it. But... _I love you_. We've come so far. And I...want to face this together." She tells him.

He looks at her for a moment, judging her words against her seeming state of mind. Those pearly browns that seem so light despite the colour.

Finally he nods tiredly. "Okay." He agrees, pulling her close once more. "If that's what you want."

The decision is in the air.

Christmas time is here.

And they're all going down.

Donna sighs, feeling Harvey's presence not a foot away from her.

* * *

 ** _Christmas time is here_**

 ** _Happiness and cheer_**

 ** _Fun for all that children call_**

 ** _Their favorite time of the year_**

 ** _Snowflakes in the air_**

 ** _Carols everywhere_**

 ** _Olden times and ancient rhymes_**

 ** _Of love and dreams to share_**

 ** _Sleigh bells in the air_**

 ** _Beauty everywhere_**

 ** _Yuletide by the fireside_**

 ** _And joyful memories there_**

 ** _Christmas time is here_**

 ** _Families drawing near_**

 ** _Oh, that we could always see_**

 ** _Such spirit through the year_**

Vince Guaraldi Trio - 'Christmas Time Is Here'

* * *

Merry Christmas Everybody!

A~


	2. Blame

_Notes:_

As I'm not good with the case, and I can barely speculate on where they've decided to go with regards to Mike being arrested and put on trial. Instead, this fic will be an assortment of moments over the Holidays. Different people in each chapter, or a scenario surrounding what is going on. I will try to make it consistent, but it's not going to have a steady plot like other fics.

And for those interested in LIFE, I shall be concentrating on that mainly!

HAPPY NEW YEAR! A~

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - BLAME**

* * *

_**When the Going gets tough,**_

 _ **The Tough fall back on those that carry them.**_

 _ **And the strong, with all their might, deck the halls with words of war and hope that they can bare the weight of it.**_

* * *

Christmas was all about duties.

Donna had a duty to her family in Cortland.

Harvey, had promised to be at his Brother's up state.

Rachel had renounced her family.

And Mike didn't have any family to speak of.

In a perfect world, they would have all spent the day together.

But worlds are not perfect.

They often don't go as planned.

* * *

Today, in between the celebrations, things were still heading firmly south.

After all, Scandal doesn't shut up for the holidays.

 _The Law waits for no man._

* * *

Harvey, and therefore Mike's defence is weak at best.

 _ **He's losing.** _

He never loses.

Not ever.

It seems that 2016 is going to continue with the same losing streak as last year.

Where last year was all panic attacks, difficulty and feeling,

This year seems like it is moving into uphill struggle, sacrifice and good old fashioned conspiracy.

To add to it, the whole of the city is still caked in holiday merriment, and yet he still can't even string a sentence together enough to wish anybody well.

He's bitter. He's so angry, in fact, that the pressure has started to build in his face. His hands are balled up in fists and strapped to his sides in their usual way; all except for the bulging vein that throbs at his left wrist.

 _He's always at her door._

In the back of his mind he reasons that he'll always come here.

No matter what.

 _Loaded and ready to go off._

The door is open before the the heel of his hand can slam a second time.

"What the hell? Harvey?" Donna almost spits, and before he has the time to bare down her, her eyes flicker up and down the hall then widening as he moves forward; his face steely and heavily looking enough to make her back into her own apartment in a mere two steps.

She can see him almost shake with a fury. As if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him, or given him an unknown drug. "It's _**y-your**_ fault." He stutters, his speech a muddle of vowels and consonants.

"What?" She frowns, a confused look through serious eyes. "Are you drunk?" She accuses, her posture bending at the sight of him, of the sheer magnitude of his intense stare.

" **You** let me hire him, Donna." He spits the words at her, letting them spray the air a pitch kind of black.

Her voice falters then. "I...Harvey…" Her shoulders drop then, the magnitude of his words hitting her full force.

" _You_. Let me. **Hire** him." He says, his face crinkling with distaste as his back arches with a heavy breath. He stumbles forward, just close enough that she can smell the waft of heady alcohol and a signature brand.

Her body arches, a torrent of words filling her mouth with acid bile at the audacity of such an assault. She's ready to arm herself with a dictionary of rebuttals, until she sees his eyes fill ever so slightly.

"Harvey." She starts, trying to placate him. "That's not true, I-"

"Bullshit, Donna. WHY?" He presses, his voice heavy as he shuffles forward again.

She's never seen him so angry. Never felt his feeling with such a push.

 _He's never blamed her before._

But then again, their lives have never been on the line like they are now.

"WHY did you," He barks with each closing footstep, a harsh choke in the back of his throat.

She only realises she's against the wall when his hand beats against it; only a couple of inches away from her head. She flinches, her eyes wide with shock at the action.

Before she can even compartmentalise the entire scenario, he's wretching for breath, his face suddenly tied up in knots moisture ridden. " _Why did you...let me do it_ ," He manages disjointedly, his voice trailing off in the whisper of an answer knowing question, before he finally drops to his knees.

She hears the steady thrum of a low pitched hiccup, puff with an uneven breath just above her abdomen for what feels like a full minute.

Eventually, her hands slide into his hair, guiding his heavy head as he rests against her. Her fingers instinctually trace unreadable letters into his scalp

This is the night that Harvey Specter finally comes apart.

The moment that he feels the full weight of his actions. Not a

Donna Paulsen is present.

 _As before and always_.

* * *

His breath has started to still, as she watches him in the pitch darkness. To an outsider it would seem like a strange novella-like cliche. _Watching the man you had recently repeatedly slept with, in the dark, as he….attempts to sleep_. But it had been practical, at the time. He was barely moveable; it had taken an hour to coax him off of the floor; an exhaustion overcoming him with such a force that the adjoining bedroom to her tiny lounge come kitchen was the closest negotiation; her only hope at having them off of the floor where her legs became numb and her head ached from the sheer complexity of such a matter.

She had managed to undress him down to his vest and briefs. And he hadn't objected...not once. There hadn't even been anything particularly sexual in the action; as her fingers had slid against his bare forearms, and her hands had directed his shoulders to make his feet work and get him to her chosen destination for his addled soul.

She had pressed him into her bed with a practised and oddly mothering touch, until his arms had raised to join the gap between them, hands curling around hers instinctively, like a moment of wake in between sleep. He threw her when he mumbled, in his little-lost-boy tone that she should stay.

In her own bed.

' _She'_ should 'stay'.

As if...by him being there she weren't automatically granted passage.

Or even worse…that he had _assumed_ and that somehow she...automatically knew the fact.

She twitches away any annoyance that he still was disregarding her current relationship status; as she slides onto the bed, _her bed_ , swallowing a grunt of sorts. She reaches for her pillow then, pulling it to herself as she observes him, the feeling of his fingers, soft and boyish and laced with hers starts to warm her all the way up to her chest. Gradually she too, begins to relax.

It's the kind of feeling that claims your full attention.

He blinks slowly then, a strange expression on his face.

He doesn't say anything. It urges an answer out of her mouth as possibilities dance on her tongue.

"I let you hire him...because I…. _I hoped_...that it would be good for you. That if he started to mean something to you...then you would...learn how to protect him...fight for him...and….maybe in turn the...people in your life. To _live_...your life. For more than just... _cases and suits and ties_." She tells him.

His face bends with a slight warmth as she watches a thought play throughout his mind.

"And I don't regret it." She tells him. "No matter what happens now."

His fingers slide over her hand and up to her wrist, ever so gently tugging at her, encouraging her closer.

She frowns as she starts to move, her face forming into a frown. "Harvey," She warns.

"I need you." He says, letting the words dance on his tongue like they are a simple order at a downtown restaurant. With that he tugs at little firmer at her wrist and finally she gives in, allowing him to pull her on top of him; her hair draping over his shoulders like a red lamp lit curtain. She inhales, letting her hands slide across his chest to prop herself up, until his fingers slide purposefully up to her neck, pulling her against him.

She can feel his heartbeat fasten at the contact.

 _And all at once, she feels like the damsel in distress, between the devil and the deep blue._

"Leave him." He commands in the darkness.

"For you?" She enquires with interest, her eyebrow raising as she takes a good look at him.

"No…" He says, shaking his head. " _For us_." He clarifies.

She doesn't know what to say. What she can say. So she kisses him instead.

It's the first night that they sleep together. Sex is just an interesting afterthought. _A filler._

It's the way he holds her that she feels the real imprint of.

* * *

She wakes to the cold.

It's a gut wrenching feeling.

 _Like the night has been stripped of him._

 _Like the daylight is invading her peaceful little world._

She peels an eyelid, knowing he's not there. He couldn't be. She'd have known if he were.

Her shoulders slump against the pillow, as she takes stock of her waning situation. She counts to ten before her head feels easy enough to help her up, her chest rising to allow the rest of her to follow. She raises to a seated position, witnessing, immediately the blanched out greyness of the day.

 _Another murky, non-descript Saturday_ , she thinks to herself, before rising to the bathroom.

She blears at her reflection, grabbing her bathrobe off of the hook on the back of the bathroom door, before numbly walking to the kitchen.

She allows the heaviness of inevitability to settle slowly in her gut.

If she awaken to all of it too fast, she might truly burst. _Or at the very least throw up._

 _Grey is the inevitability of her life._

"God, you _still_...sleep a lot." Says a deep voice from some corner of her kitchen come lounge. It sends a shiver down the middle of her chest.

He's still here. It's an odd notion that she still can't see the vision of said voice.

"Where are you?" She says, half shocked and half intrigued by the faceless yet all too familiar voice in her apartment.

She jumps with fright when he appears above the level of the countertop, dressed in last night's clothes.

"H-Harvey…" She stutters, mid-way cursing his name and watching, as he grins with gold emblazoned kind of satisfaction. "God damn it."

"Omelette?" He offers, now appearing with what she sees is a spatula and a non-offensive smile.

"Does it come with a health warning?" She quips, regaining her composure in little more than a bathrobe and last night's hair.

"The food?" He asks, quirking a less than amused expression on his face.

"You've never once cooked for me." She reasons. "Not even after the 'Other Time'." She reminds him.

He smirks, placing the spatula down, as he sidewalks her counter. "There's a lot of things I never did that I should have done after the 'Other Time'." He reasons softly, as he turns off the stove, before slowly walking over to her.

He examines her. She notices the way that he seems to squint, as if he's superman having a slight issue with his x-ray vision, before meeting her eyes again with a smirk.

She frowns once more, the natural order of things coming into play.

Her ex Boss... _making the moves on her._

When he meets her, his lips ready and his hands willing, she is squirming for every awkward non-virgin in the State of New York.

Merely on principle.

This is Harvey and Donna in a...domestic perspective.

And for her, it is terrifying.

Like treading the ground of Disneyworld at thirteen; knowing that by fourteen you'll be forced to renounce The Jungle Book as your favourite ever film in favour of the more popular Risky Business or Sixteen Candles of your supposed post-disney lifestyle.

Donna Paulsen doesn't like change. Unless she herself is leading such a thing.

She judges his moves as he slides against her, his hands keeping themselves busy in the groove of her waist. She catches him frown then, a hand sliding up to a stray piece of hair.

"Your hair looks...different." He comments.

She settles then, confident that he's behind the eightball. "Well..." She starts, "One thing you don't know about me is...that I have _really_ naturally _curly_ hair." She offers candidly.

"I know." He shrugs, unfazed.

"No you don't." She frowns, suspicious at his ease of self as she narrows her eyes at him. "It's my best kept secret…you couldn't possibly know."

"I found that picture that you gave Louis." He shrugs noncommittally, until a thought catches him. "Speaking of, **_why_**...did you give _Louis_ a photo of you?"

"There was a context. And a story behind it." She defends, watching his entertained face see her squirm.

He hums in understanding, but she can see something not quite adding up in the back of his head. "You've never given _me_ one…' He says carefully.

She rolls her eyes. He's ridiculous. But then that is nothing new. "You've never been in a play before." She says, before sliding past him and over to the coffee maker.

"Actually...I have," He answers to the contrary. Her eyes bulge with shock as she looks at him over her shoulder.

"How did I not know this?" She enquires, fishing for a cup in an overhead cupboard.

"Because I'm not an actor." He explains, moving back to the eggs.

"When?" She asks, gliding to the fridge.

"Ninth Grade." He replies. "Did it to get a girl." He smirks, a hint of smoulder in his confident looking face.

"Ooh…" She smirks then. "Have a thing for the theatrics, did you?" She plays, taking a seat at her dinner table.

"Some things never change," He mumbles.

It's not long before he pops one plate in front of her.

She smiles briefly, before a confused frown overcomes her. "What? You're testing your culinary skills on me?" She quirks an eyebrow at him.

"I've always been able to cook." He shrugs, matching her expression. "I just...don't always have the time."

Of course. Work.

It seems that lately everyday is a work day.

She nods vaguely, the slump of disappointment in her posture as he reaches for his coat; briefly discarded the night before.

He walks back over to her, leaning down to plant a firm kiss on her lips. He tastes like coffee and her toothpaste. There is the faintest hint of him wanting to stay, held briefly in the way his lips linger against hers with a longing.

She smiles shyly, despite herself when he disconnects from her, looking at her meaningfully, before heading for the door.

"And don't forget to break up with your boyfriend," He tells her with a smirk, before quickly shutting the door behind himself.

She rolls her eyes, the nervous tension bleeding out into dry laughter, as she picks up her knife and fork.

The words bleed like an afterthought.

'Don't forget dinner tonight' ' _Don't forget to break up with your boyfriend…'_

He has always been her little romantic complication.

Her now, very much _established_ , complication.

The eggs are delicious.

And like a cliche he is firmly in her mind.

* * *

Rachel Zane is not a weak woman.

She is sensitive. Sometimes overly so. She is compassionate. She does not judge, and sometimes is caught out on account of her overly kind nature.

But she is _not_ weak.

Mike...is her only real weakness.

And she doesn't want to let him go. That's all.

Mike had encouraged her to go back to their apartment for a couple of days.

In all honesty, they can't co-habit his old apartment. It's just not feasible. It's bare, and unfit for the flourishing lives of two young people.

She wonders sometimes, if it weren't for meeting Mike, if she would still be _just_ a Paralegal.

Thing is, she'd give it all up for him.

 _All of it._

And there lies the distinction.

Having him bought her what she most wanted. But she wants him over all.

Being at their home alone, at least part time, is agonising. Like seeing a trail of his surroundings, a little breadcrumb trail leading to no victory. She hasn't removed his shirt from the chair in their bedroom, the one he decided not to wear on the morning of the day he was taken in. His toothbrush is still here. His beers still in the fridge untouched.

His presence echoes about the place as if it's empty and lacking of not just one inhabitant, but the both of them.

The door knocks, alerting her to the late hour. She hugs the blanket she wrapped around herself hours ago, and pads her way to the door.

When she opens it, her heart nearly leaps out of her throat.

"Well, _you wouldn't come to us_ ," He drawls.

"Dad," She begins, sighing like the wind has been knocked out of her.

He looks tired. Her father never looks tired.

He doesn't stride past her. Doesn't command things of her. The stand-off makes her hands sweat. So she clenches them, straightening.

They've said so much lately that it's hard to see where the line is.

"Can I…" He infers softly, nodding to her apartment.

It only occurs to her in a moment, that Robert Zane and Harvey Specter are...one in the same.

Demanding, and crass, and powerful. Often tempestuous and seldom sensitive to those around them. But underneath that they are...soft and hold themselves inside.

Her father, like her Boss, is a man of the greys.

Difference is, unlike Harvey Specter, her father sees the world around him in black and white, regardless of what colours he lives in. It's always been a distinction that has rubbed her up the wrong way. The hypocrisy of such a thing.

She nods, silently wandering into her apartment. She can hear his heavy footsteps behind her.

When she turns, he's in front of her again. "How's...Mike?" He asks, shrugging defensively.

She immediately tags onto the strong sense of incredulity in his voice for an answer he's already making up in his head. Her eyebrow twitches.

"Do you really even care?" She offers.

"Rachel," He placates slowly, his voice characterful. "Of course we care."

"Right." She retracts, folding her arms. "And is this coming from you... _or Mom_?" She asks him.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I…" She nearly stumbles on the truth passing to the lie. "I didn't know." She says.

"Bullshit." He fires at her, one eye squinting in the low lamp-light.

 _He always did have a good Bullshit magnet._

"Look Dad, I know you must think a lot of things about me, but-"

"On the contrary, I'm worried for you." He counters, stepping forward. "Rachel, He pleads softly. "You're a bright girl. With a future. _Still_. Surely you can see that Pearson Specter is going doing and fast,"

"It's Pearson Specter & Litt, Dad." She corrects sharply.

"Like Louis Litt didn't buy into that title," He offers, giving her a heavy look despite his blaze attitude.

"Don't come here and threaten my firm. If it weren't for them; weren't for _Mike_ , I wouldn't have even passed the L-Sats."

"Did you?" He asks then.

Her eyes widen then. The audacity of such a thing. She swallows the need to fume. "What's that supposed to mean?" She fires at him, her eyes on fire. "What exactly are you asking me?"

He gives her a disbelieving look. "You never even thought to take that test until you met Mike Ross,"

" **Just say it, Dad**."

That's it. She's had it. It's her last strain of composure.

"Say what?"

"Don't play stupid with me. Go on, ask me the question. I know it's burning in the periphery of your mind so just SAY IT?"

"Fine. DID MIKE TAKE THE TEST FOR YOU?" He says rather impassioned.

And like that,

 _He's said it. That and more._

The words are now out there.

But it doesn't matter. She could already see them written in the air around him anyway, so what good is honesty at this point.

"Get out." She barks.

"Rachel...It's just a question," He says, beginning to back track.

"No. You insulted my firm, my fiance and most of all, me. You can leave now." She says, her hand pointing to the door.

"Rachel I didn't-"

"I'm sorry Dad." She interrupts, despite the look in his eyes. "You're not welcome here right now. Please **leave**."

He judges her stance. Her expression. Her posture, like he's tasting the air in the room.

Finally, he turns, walking down the hall. She follows him, willing that he not turn around before he goes.

He pauses. And it's a knife edge just to hold it altogether.

"We still love you, Rachel." He says.

She can see it in his eyes. She never doubting the fact.

But there are just bigger things right now...

"This isn't about us. This is about Mike." She tells him, before shutting the door.

The tears stream, but she doesn't panic. Doesn't sob.

She chose her side long ago. She chose her 'family'.

Her Mother knew that or else she would have come too.

And she'll go back to the old one when she's good and ready.

When things go back to normal.

If they do.

* * *

 ** _Blame it on love_**

 ** _What else could it be._**

 ** _Causing all this misery._**

 ** _Blame it on love_**

 ** _So easy to do_**

 ** _No one does it more than you._**

'Blame' By Denai Moore

* * *

It's the 29th of December.

New Years looms on her calendar with a vagueness.

And all she can think of, with everything that is going on in her life, is Harvey Specter.

She knows it's a risk to go and find him when she's sure that he's in no mood to be interrupted. She's heard along the grapevine that today was no easier for him. But she can't help the fact. He has cracked her resolve like an egg and served her the remains to pick over. He made her open up to him. And as much as she's sure he doesn't want to acknowledge the fact, she is different now.

They are different, and she cannot go back.

The lights are dim along the corridor. She recalls it being about quarter past nine when she slides past the turnstile in the lobby. She'd left for work hours ago, Louis abandoning his work in favour of a dinner with his sister. He had asked her to join, and she had declined.

In truth, as nice as Esther was, she didn't relish sitting over the table from a woman that had interested Harvey quite that much. Not to mention also slept with. In the past, when they had worked together, it had been her job not to comment, unless she thought it meant something to him. Any annoyance, any niggle of jealousy that might have suggested itself was stuffed into a little black box along with the following: the strength of his hands; the way he had looked at her ten years ago like she was the star on a christmas tree, and the sound he issued out of her when she came in ribbons upon ribbons of ecstasy during _The Other Time_.

But now, that box was open. Like Pandora it all came tumbling down.

And so now, she looks for him. She seeks him out when she thinks that he might need her.

For one, it stops him from bottling it all up and then assaulting her with it later.

But there are also...other reasons.

She craves to be around him, for one.

She notices that Gretchen has long gone. _That makes it easier_ , she thinks to herself. She knows that the woman would never pry, but she's become something else since Gretchen took her place of sorts. Before, she had seemed like a scorned ex-almost. Then a Mother, seeking out her teenager. And now...she was...something else entirely.

She pauses when she sees him on the couch, buried elbows deep in paperwork, a tired, overworn frown forcing his eyebrows together. She thinks she spies the faintest touch of grey in the sides of his hair, his face tired with a dryness and his eyes slightly unfocused in the lamp light.

 _He's overworked. And no one is here to stop him._

She sashays through his open door, making sure her footing is light enough to not to emphasize her entrance. But he is quick, his dark eyes immediately flashing to her nude shoes only to rise up her legs with a slowly growing smirk.

"Burning the midnight oil?" She offers in a dulcet tone.

"More like Burning Out," He admits, gently tossing his paperwork onto the desk and sitting back a bit, a sigh falling out of him as his hands instinctively fold into his lap.

He's never done that before. Abandoned his train of thought. Not for her. Not unless it's been something important and pressing, and usually on the beginning of a well placed lecture that he knows he can't get out of.

But here she is, coy, aloof and looking at him with a new expression that she's sure he's never seen before. And there he is, arms open and attention firmly set on her.

"What you doing back here?" He asks casually, noticing her posture as she stands, with her hands behind herself. He shifts then, what she guesses is him holding his cards again, as he slides forward; his carafe of whiskey already on the table.

She smirks wickedly. before one hand swings to the front, carrying a suspiciously familiar white plastic bag.

"I come baring gifts." She tells him, taking a few steps forward. "I figure that you've not eaten, and I gather that you fobbed off any attempt that _Gretchen_ made to order you something before she went home,"

"She bought me food from home," He remarks.

"Liar," She accuses, smirking.

He chuckles to himself, his head bowing. "You know, nobody likes a know-it-all." He informs her.

She smirks victoriously, gliding to the table to place the bag down. "On the contrary, If I _weren't_ a know-it-all, you...or for that matter, _we_ , would probably not have lasted here this long." She points out, sliding around the corner of the paper laden coffee table to take a seat next to him.

He hums in agreement, momentarily distracted by the way she perches rather delicately beside him, sitting taller than him for a moment, as if she's fallen into old patterns.

"Good point." He acknowledges, gravitating naturally towards her.

"Not here," She mouths to him, her neck straightening with alertness.

"Why not?" He asks, his tone flattening with a disappointment.

She nearly laughs all the way through his innocent little lost boy look. Until the other night, she hadn't witnessed that look in over eleven years.

She thought that he'd grown out of the expression, grown out of it in his fleeting youth.

"Because...my rule still stands here."

He gives her a heavy glare for a split second, before shaking his head. "We don't...work together anymore." He offers with a slight pout.

"Harvey,"

He looks away for a moment. "Go get the plates," He half-orders, his expression sullen.

She smirks, content with his letting it go.

* * *

She hasn't spoken to Mitchell yet. He's been away on business, so she didn't want to burden him.

She was supposed to see him after Christmas. It had been moved to New Years.

Initially, he had tried to get her to come to his for Christmas, and she'd all but encouraged him against the fact. Swearing that it was sacrilege in her family to not attend a familial gathering at this time.

But then he was called away, with a flurry of apologies and promises to 'Make it right' after he got back with the dawning of the New Year.

Truth was, she didn't mind. She herself was backpedalling. _Because of Harvey._

She tries not to let the thought dig at her, as she rummages through the partner's kitchen for a few stray plates.

She has a tough road ahead.

An uncharted course through a minefield of little questions, with answers tied in red ribbon and floating up into the sky.

' _This is the walk'. - By David O'Dowda_

* * *

When she returns he has tidied somewhat, and his father's record can be heard playing in the background.

Some of his younger work, if she recalls correctly. She smirks as she notices him against the window sill with a scotch in his hand. She smiles briefly and saunters over to the table to place the cutlery and plates alongside the bag.

He's by her side in a second, half taking her by surprise as he hands her a glass to replicate his own.

She looks to the orange amber-toned fluid swilling about in the glass.

"What's so funny?"

"Before I met _you_...I used to hate this stuff." She tells him, indicating the glass of Macallan.

"Before I met _you_...I never used to have vanilla in my coffee." He counters.

"Do you still have it?" She asks, her eyes lighting up.

"No," He answers, shaking his head. "I don't." He smirks. "I miss it."

She nods. "I'm not coming back." She tells him.

He looks away in an instant, and she can see the words cutting. He swallows, before looking back to her. "I know. It wouldn't be right, given the circumstances."

She feels her cheeks warm to the bridge of her nose, her interest piquing. "Oh yeah? What circumstances might they be?"

He rolls his eyes, sidestepping her as he downs his whiskey. "Let's eat." He offers, sitting back in his regular position as his fingers unwrap the top of the plastic bag that's been keeping the heat in and the warm at a reasonable temperature. He smirks, when he spots a bottle of red in the bag.

"Red Wine?" He enquires.

"I thought you could use something to...relax you."

"Something else far more ideal springs to mind," He mumbles beside her. She splutters, her eyes finding his at the rather honest outburst. He frowns, deadpan. "Give me your plate," He orders, holding his hand out. She places it in his hand with a pout that pulls into the want of a smile at his rather pitiful expression.

"You going to order me around _every time_ you bottle up an impulse?" She asks him with humour, watching as he pours out the contents of a container between their two plates.

He likes Chinese from the best place in town. She likes Thai from some shitty place in the west village.

They always order the same thing and share it equally.

"Depends," He retorts, examining her.

"On?" She offers.

"On whether you're gonna wear things like _that_ to work." He indicates with a fork.

She double takes herself.

 _Nope._

 _Nothing out of the ordinary,_ she thinks to herself.

"I've been wearing this dress for a year." She remarks.

He shrugs, hiding a smirk as he directs himself to the task at hand. "Not for _me_ , you haven't."

"I've never worn anything for you?" She tells him boldly.

"Bullshit." He eyes her.

It knocks the words out of her mouth, as she chews on her lip.

He knows. She can be as self confident as she likes, or swear against her impulses that she panders to no one.

But it would be...a lie.

She gives him a look as she holds a hand out. "Give me the damn plate." She orders, trying and failing to stave of his smugness.

He hands it to her, giving her a brief look, before they fall into silence, occasionally taking a sip of wine or refilling their plates.

She only realises how long it's been when she finishes, sliding her plate on to the coffee table and finally slumps into the comfort of her old nook, the softened groove of the couch complimenting her frame and beckoning her wine-filled stomach to full relax. She slides off her shoes one after the other and slides her legs to the side, as she takes a large sip of her wine.

She closes her eyes for a moment too long, because when she opens them again he is looking at her in _that_ way.

He is softer looking, all of a sudden. His sleeves rolled up. His hair unruly and the lamp behind him giving him a softer glow. Somehow his cheekbones don't stand out as much as they usually do, despite his smoulder. Despite the potent that look he has in his eyes.

He slides across the leather, his knee lightly touching hers.

She feels the hairs on her arms stand to attention when he slides even further towards her.

"Harvey," She warns in her tone, despite the entertained look on her face.

"Just one," He encourages, like their talking about a cigarette. Or a shot.

 _Speaking of shots and other things he doesn't have a chance in hell of getting..._

"No," She warns with a mothering tone as she straightens against the arm of the couch.

He is unperturbed unlike he has never been before. Instead he grins like a cat that got the cream before he's even touched her, closing her against the corner of the couch; his left arm sliding behind her and along the backrest.

"Come on," He nearly purrs the words. "I _promise_ you'll enjoy it." He tells her.

She giggles with an unnatural nervousness, a dull laugh falling out at him getting so very close to her with every passing second; and action that somehow raises an innate kind of panic only he can encourage.

With everyone else she is as cool as cucumber sandwich.

Everyone but him.

She tries at another, bolder warning look, and watches with widened eyes as his right hand passes her shoulder. She wonders what he's doing until she feels her hair slide past her neck and relax in loose waves on the back of her shoulder blade.

"Smooth," She remarks with sarcasm.

"I've been practising." He assures her as he closes the distance.

He hovers then, his face inches away from hers.

This is different to the sex. Even when he was lying numb on her bed.

This is so very different. So very intimate.

"Don't you dare,"

"Or what?" He offers devilishly.

"I warned you Harvey. I _will_ slap you."

"No you won't." He assures her, his right hand sliding against her waist.

"And why not?" She arches an eyebrow in challenge of the fact.

" _Because, you need this... **just as much as I do**_." He tells her.

She blinks, the words throwing like a discus in her mind.

His lips have already slid across hers before she can even think about the consequences.

About the fact, that she _still_ has a boyfriend.

And that she hasn't delivered that awkward information.

And the fact that their firm, their home, is still in danger of tumbling down around them.

As his tongue slides against hers, making her moan into his mouth and grind against him,

She doesn't even notice the other man, blindly stalking towards the office.

"Harvey, I know it's late, but I was thinking-" The insistent steps of Louis Litt halt at the door with a jolt.

Donna's eyes snap open at the voice, her vision blurring into the sight of Harvey's confused face as she withdraws from his eager embrace.

When she looks to the intruder, his posture stiffens like a plank of wood, an expression reading _gut punch_ all the way down to his cheap looking shoes.

"I-Uh...You're busy. I'll," Louis mumbles, spinning on his heel and shuffling away with more than the usual amount of awkwardness.

Donna feels the drain of being caught mixed in with a feeling of pity that she can't quite nail down. She sits back for a moment, hearing Harvey's slightly faster breath mingle with hers.

She doesn't run after her Boss.

Some habits died with the old.

* * *

Happy New Year! Another Chapter coming VERY SOON...


	3. I Heard

_**Notes:**_

Last Chapter. Something short and sweet for the Holidays (8 days too late!) Am working on LIFE now.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3 - I Heard**_

* * *

 _Science is eerie when you're still around_

 _Killing your body cos they found you out_

 _Calling the shots and I'm falling down_

 _Look at the dust explode on the ground_

 _Inside I'm feeling dirty_

 _It's only cuz I'm hurting._

'I Heard' By Young Fathers.

* * *

" _ **Harvey. I know it's late, but I was thinking-"**_

Louis Litt is between the waters.

For the first time,

 _He's not to blame._

He's not even accountable for his actions.

Because, in truth, lately he's kind of... _blended into to the background_.

His actions aren't causing the kind of reactions that lead to the still familiar blunders of his past.

There are bigger things now, things that don't concern him anymore.

 _That is,_

Until they threaten _his f_ irm.

His firm means the world to him.

The literal _**world to him**_.

Because he really doesn't have a life outside of these glass walls. Those walls, which hold him up on the days that he is down. That give him breath in the numbers that revolve from page to page and the challenge made to break them at his fingertips.

When Jessica called them all in on the night of Mike's arrest,

He was at the forefront of the Battle-plan.

He was a team player. _And off of his own back_ , no less.

Despite the kind of lines that Mike had crossed, he finally understood him for what he was.

 _He never agreed with it._

But he understood.

It was a compromise, sure, letting such a gross misconduct slide. But he had done it. Willingly. And when the information became public. When the good name of his beloved firm became smeared in thigh high controversy,

 _Still,_

He kept trying to score,

 _For the team._

 _For the Firm._

 _ **For 'Family'.**_

He had cut his dinner with his sister short, because an idea had formed in his head, lighting up possibilities like wildfire.

Possibilities that could right the ship.

And suddenly and rather selflessly an insistence to tell Harvey had been at the forefront of his mind.

But as he stands here, frozen icily to the spot by the picture in front of him.

Suddenly, those pure intentions drift to the background like blast debris.

He swallows at the sight, _Of her_ ….he can't even acknowledge the words in his mind…' _with' him._

 _Of all people..._

He looks away for a moment, concentrating on the New York skyline to his left. Anything to keep his heart from beating so loudly in his ears.

He'd leave if only he could remove himself from the situation. But he's glued to the spot by his own inability to form a coherent sentence. It feels like hours have passed when it's barely pushed a second.

"I-Uh...you're busy. I'll," He splutters, his mouth working behind it's usual speed as his feet finally dislodge from the spot. He nods curtly as he spins a 180 on his back foot.

He daren't lift a hand until he's turned the corner of the winding hallway.

And when he enters the men's bathroom he glances at the mirror briefly, ignoring the sight of his reflection before turning the cold tap on full blast.

He swallows against the stray tear that seems to have trickled down his contorted face and bled out onto his pale lavender collar.

He swears against every living thing,

 _Never to again let another person in._

And that if this firm does go down,

Then it is decided.

 _So do the two men that led it into the fray in the first place._

* * *

Harvey Specter has always had an issue with... _women staying over_.

He had tried to rationalise it. Tried to tame the impulse. Tried not to let it become 'an issue'.

But alas, in the past it'd...well...it had become rather a large issue.

Fact is, he just doesn't like sleeping with someone else in his bed. He moves around too much, and if he stays in one place too long it makes him cranky. And he can't have that.

 _His firm can't stand the loss._

Even with Scottie, whom he _had_ loved, two nights was more than enough. Two nights, and then he have to make an excuse that he had to work late. Or had an early meeting the next day. And excuse to get an empty bed.

Lucky for him she was liberal. It hadn't really been an issue. Unfortunately bigger things had crept onto the table.

But with other women? _It was a non negotiable._

 _Now._

Donna had yet to stay over. He had stayed at hers once in twelve years, and then four more times in no less than two weeks.

New Years was in a couple of days still, and he hadn't asked her what her plans were.

He _had_ planned for her to stay then. But the truth was...they were _way_ past the casual stage.

However, they appeared to be the 'slow moves' kind of people now that they were a 'they'.

In the past, she had colourfully regarded his bedroom as 'a chick vacuum'

Women just got sucked into it. And it was apparently full of all the crap of his past that he had forgotten about - _and herpes_ , or so she had convinced him once.

Truth was, he had bought a new bed about a month prior to their relationship 'changing', purely because his chiropractor had insisted he do so, following a rather unfortunate slipped disk incident. He wasn't twenty-nine anymore… _certain positions were for special occasions only. Not for the hot waitresses of upper east side._

But tonight, he had realised - besides the rather strange appearance of Louis - that he could _not_ lose her again.

And that he needed her. Plain and Simple.

So he did something that he almost never did.

After they tidied dinner away, he took her hand in his and led her out of their place of work. He hailed a cab and had them drive to his condo.

He notices her fingers twitch against his as they ride up the elevator.

"You okay there?" He enquires, looking to her rather tight expression.

"Mhhm-hmm." She says, her focus on the doors in front.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his tone flattening.

"Nothing…" She says.

He can tell by the way she chews on the inside of her mouth that it's something.

"It's _not_ nothing." He chuckles to himself.

And he knows what it is.

 _She can be the strangest creature sometimes._

"You're thinking about the bed aren't you?"

"No," She counters.

" _Really_?"

"Fine." She relinquishes irritably, sliding her hand out of his as she folds her arms. "I'm thinking about the bed."

"That's a little presumptuous, don't you think?" He teases, his hand sliding against her hip bone as his chin gravitates towards her left cheek to plant a kiss.

She leans back slightly, only to emphasise her point. "You know. _My bed_ doesn't have cooties. Maybe I could just go home there... _alone_."

He has a love/hate relationship with her playfulness now. She pushes and pulls the idea of 'them' around like it's still an ambiguous concept. Despite the slight immaturity of their relationship _he_ is now planted firmly in the camp of certainty, and when she does wax and wane on it he finds the frisson of such a thing start to grate.

He pulls her to him. "I bought a new bed, okay? So will you just...stop it?" He reams off, his intention softened as he holds her close to him.

She stops there and then, smiling first to herself before the warmth in her face settles into her eyes.

"Okay." She relinquishes. "Lead the way, Specter." She offers, letting him take her hand again.

When he opens the door, there is something different about them walking over the threshold.

 _Together._

It feels like he is bringing her _home_.

Like her absence here has been palpable for nearly twelve years.

He slides her coat off of her shoulders in one fluid motion, stepping back to hang it on a hook next to his own ones. He pauses, watching her glide past his lounge, her hair lit up by the peppering of lights underneath them.

It strikes him in the chest in a matter of moments.

 _The realisation. Clear as crystal._

He strides towards her, tugging at her left arm, spinning her around to face him. She's taken off guard, mumbling a reaction of sorts but he's ready, and in an instant, his other hand steadies her at the waist, as his lips crash down over hers. His kiss is hungry and fueled with everything that has been missing from his life.

His entire life has been paced. Practised. Measured.

 _Balance down to a Tee._

But all he wants is her, _here_ , with him.

If not at work, or both, and at the very least here.

Permanently.

She responds with the twist of a smile.

"You've been waiting all day to do that," She manages in between breath.

"I have." He hums in agreement, before he kisses her once more, his hand sliding over her ass to press her neatly against his growing need for her. "I nearly accosted you in the Partner's kitchen earlier."

"Accosted? That sounds...serious." She plays with a smile.

" _Oh. It was_." He confirms, a heady mix of his voice rumbling low in his chest with the kind of groan that emanates from his groin as he grinds against her. She gasps in a reactive breath at the contact, her hands that were against his chest sliding up to fit in the sharp turn of his neck. She straightens, feeling the difference in height of lower than usual shoes as she slides her tongue into his mouth.

 _A tease_ , a suggestion to move the stakes a little higher.

He responds in kind, his head angling before he gently pushes her towards the direction of the bedroom.

When they pass the doorframe, she looks over her shoulder for a moment, examining the new bed, a secret smile waiting for him that he kisses away.

"Happy?" He asks, preoccupied with her enough not to catch the meaning of his own words.

"It'll do," She says, chuckling to herself when he gives her a slightly disappointed look. She kicks off her shoes, turning her back on him.

"Would you do the honours?" She asks over her shoulder, inferring the zip on her dress.

He sighs, watching as the fabric drapes open with every pull of his hand, exposing a deep peppering of freckles that he's quickly become so fond of.

He wonders if he could ever get tired of his.

He supposes, maybe. At some point.

 _But not for a very long time._

* * *

He wakes in the night with a slightly heavy head, as he slides away from her inviting warmth. He pulls on his boxers, and takes a moment to appreciate the slightly curly redhead in his bed. Her skin pale and unusual in the moonlight. _And Travis Tanner thankfully nowhere to be seen._

He shakes off the silly concept and pads out into the kitchen, reaching through tired eyes for the fridge handle and grasping for some water. He frowns when he hears vibration coming from his coat.

He frowns, placing the water on the kitchen counter as he wanders to the assortment of coats hanging there in the darkness. He delves his hand into a pocket of the one he was wearing tonight, as the sound continues to vibrate.

It's only when he has the phone in his hand that he realises.

 _It's not his phone._

A message flashes up alongside a 'missed call' notification.

' _Hey Babe I'll might be back for New Year's after all. Can't wait to see you. M.'_

The blood drains from his face. He nearly crushes the phone in his hand.

* * *

When Donna Paulsen wakes up in Harvey Specter's bed for the first time, she's more than a little disoriented.

He doesn't have much in the way of curtains - or at least any that are shut - and he isn't beside her. She frowns, wondering if this is a habit that he gets into, always being the first out of the bed.

She grabs the top bedsheet, gathering it about herself so she can amble out into the lounge and look for the occupant.

She spies him on the couch, seemingly preoccupied. It gives her the strangest of feelings as she pads towards him. She tries to shake it off as an awkward next morning feeling, as she sidles up against the arm of the couch.

She doesn't know the time, having left her phone in her coat the night before, but it feels particularly dawn-ish, despite the regulated temperature of the place.

"Hey. You're up early." She says.

He looks to her then. And she gets that feeling again. "I went for a run." He replies, leaning back slightly.

"What, at Five?" She gawps, until she notices his expression blanche. "What's going on, Harvey?"

"Sit down," He nods towards the couch opposite.

She laughs awkwardly to herself, as if she's the only one in the room that's noticed her less than apt attire. " _Okay_...What's wrong?"

He straightens then, as if somehow trying to find the words to something.

She wonders then, what exactly it is that he has over her.

"Why didn't you tell me about Mitchell?" He asks her, his hands forming into a point.

His gesture has the word 'problem' all over it.

"What about him?" She asks carefully.

"You haven't told him yet." He states heavily.

She sinks into the seat into and instant. Half confused, and half caught out.

Suddenly his expression makes a ton of sense. "No. _I haven't_...I."

"Donna," He interrupts, his expression tired.

"He's not gotten back from Texas and _I_...thought it would be inappropriate, even unfinished if I were to just tell him over the phone. How did you even-"

"I read your message last night." He divulges.

"What the hell!?" She sits forward, a fire lashing at her words.

" _ **By accident**_ ," He clarifies, giving her a heavy look. "He called you when I got up to pee and I thought it was _my_ phone in _my_ coat. I just... why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked. _After you firmly requested_." She remarks heavily. "And I didn't want to make you think I was stalling."

"Aren't you?"

 _And there it is._

The reason that ruined her perfect first morning at his apartment.

She chews the inside of her lip and sighs, walking over to him in his own sheets.

"Harvey...I _may_ have...some... _reservations_ about us and what we're doing. But...I don't have any doubt in my mind that I _need_ to break up with him. And I didn't tell you because...it wouldn't have sounded very good. 'Yes Harvey, I love you too, but my boyfriend's out of town right now, so I'm just going to wait until he gets back to tell him. Oh! And by the way, he might be back on New Year's Eve, because we didn't spend Christmas together, so BEWARE!'" She loses her focus in the last of the words, the stresses starting bleed out as she perches on the sofa next to him in his own bedsheet. "I'm sorry I didn't keep you informed. And I'm sorry that he still thinks that we're together. If I tell him that we need to talk on the phone, he'll know."

He looks away then, shaking his head.

 _Because she's right._

It's a shitty situation for two people who are trying not to be shitty people.

She leans in then, craving the contact.

When he pauses, it's like an emotional slap in the face. "We should...keep our distance...until this is fixed." He tells her.

"What? Harvey...this didn't start as a chaste affair." She reminds him with a tired smile.

"I know. I just…" He pauses then, his eyes glazing over in concentrated thought.

She waits for what feels like an age, before his takes her hands, ignoring the material that seems to lose some of it's position. "Donna... **this** _...means something_ to me. And...I want it to be right from the start."

"I wish you had told me this... _before_ I got into your bed." She remarks dryly.

"The bed's for you and no one else." He promises then, a sadish smile turning on his face.

She sighs then, feeling like an asshole in a sheet. She shrugs, nodding finally. "Well I better...go get my clothes on."

"Donna," He frowns, sensing the edge in her voice. He waits until she pauses. "I love you."

"I know." She half-smiles, before plodding into the bedroom.

* * *

She takes a cab back to hers. Despite Harvey's insistence to call Ray.

And wonders if anything will ever be the way she hopes it to be.

She's still too scared to say the words back.

The only comfort is that she knows in her heart that he feels them.

* * *

 _To add to the complications, Donna realises part-way through the work day._

 _That things aren't going back to normal_. In any respect.

Louis isn't speaking to her.

He isn't even making the point that he's not speaking to her, like he would usually do; _leave a trail of crumbs for her find and piece together into a cookie of intent_. Instead, he is almost mute; he nods and says thank you at her and then continues with whatever task he has in front of him.

No more prunies.

No more mudding.

No more trips to the theatre.

Add to that, the fact that her _still_ boyfriend, Mitchell, is coming back tonight and still very much her boyfriend.

It isn't really helping matters.

She's stressed, and reaching her minimum for safe handling.

She leaves work promptly. Damning the consequences.

She needs to vent.

* * *

A half hour later, she's rapping her hand against the door, ignoring the possible hive of germ warfare lying in its flaked paint.

When the door opens, it's like catching a little boy.

"Donna?" He frowns. "Is Rachel here?" He asks, looking around her tall form.

 _She guesses that he'll always be a little boy to her._

"Hey. No it's...just me," She tells him.

"Right. Come in... " He offers, swinging the door open to allow her access.

She frowns at the mess in the place, as if he were her own.

"Oh my god. What happened in here?" She scrunches her nose, glancing at the littering of clothes and leftover pizza boxes.

"What is it with you and Harvey? He used to moan about the place too."

"Oh, and Rachel didn't?" She scoffs, giving him a look as she tiptoes towards the old looking couch.

He gives her a look then. "How is she? She seemed quiet on the phone yesterday."

"Save for the drop in call her Dad gave her? She's...one strong cookie."

"Shit." His face drops. "What did he say now?"

"Think of what a supportive father would say…and then 180 it." She remarks.

" _Good old Robert Zane_ …" He winces, before opening the fridge. "Beer?" He offers.

"It's like you know me," She plays, waiting for the dry tone to hit him. She smirks when he gives her a look, and wanders over to her with an open bottle.

"Donna...not that it's not great to see you, given how stir crazy I've been these past few days but...what'cha doin' here?" He asks finally.

"I'm...under the gun. So to speak." She states, looking at the beer in her hands.

"Let me guess? _Fraud_?" He offers.

 _It's even funnier when you consider that they've both had experience with the concept._

"Funny. No... _I_ …" She blows out a breath, seemingly lost for words.

It's very un-Donna like.

"I...just needed someone to talk to. And I know you've got more than enough on your plate... _everyone does at the moment_ , but…"

" _I don't judge_." He answers for her.

She nods, giving him a knowing look. It's all the momentum she needs. "I'm sleeping with Harvey. And...I think it's becoming more than that."

His eyes widen for a second, before he covers it, taking a swig of his beer. "You mean he actually admitted something enough for you to do something about it?"

"It was _all_ him, actually. And also your fault."

"You're... _welcome_?" He offers, half frowning at his sudden involvement.

"Only...I'm still _technically_ with Mitchell."

"Oh,"

"He's away on business. And Harvey asked me to break up with him and I _would,_ except…"

"Except he's not been here?" He clarifies.

"Right." She nods.

"And I'll gather he's not coming back until tomorrow?"

"Well... _he was_ supposed to be coming back tonight...but it's New Year's. And I haven't heard from him. And Harvey wants to put 'us; on hold until I do. Only, I'm not sure I want to be the kind of person who breaks up with somebody on New Year's Eve."

"Well...put it this way. I might be a shitty end to the year, but at least it gives you and Harvey a fresh start." He offers.

"I guess." She says, leaving them both in silence for a moment. "Oh," And she adds. "And Louis caught me in Harvey's office... _in flagrante delicto_ a couple of days ago, and now...he won't talk to me. Just to add to complications." She regards the thought, taking a large swig of her beer.

"Well, of course he won't. You probably...broke his heart." He chuckles to himself.

"Hey!" She frowns, giving Mike a distasteful look. "Mike, that is _not_ funny." She chides, reaching forward to take a playful swipe at him.

"Oh come on, Donna!" He scoffs. "I might have screwed up some big things, but for a person who has always been one step ahead game, _in love_ you're...let's face it... _less that apt_."

"Thank you for that encouragement Mike, that was exactly what I needed. I'll be on my way now," She remarks dryly, pretending to stand.

"Look," He interrupts, trying to gain her attention. "There are two things that I understood _pretty_ quickly when I got to the firm...one...Harvey was in love with you and _didn't know it_ , or _want_ to know it. And second thing, was that when you left him, Louis seemed...almost _too_ happy about you finally being 'his'."

It's the look that he gives her that let's really settles his point.

"Oh god. No...no he doesn't, he's just fond of me _and we have the theatre_ and-"

"You might be the one thing he could never have, Donna."

"That's not,"

"Now, that _was_ the same for Harvey. But, as we all knew, _Harvey_ was the only thing in Harvey's way. But Harvey is also the thing in Louis's way."

"That's…." She pauses, releasing a puff of air.

 _She didn't want to believe it._

It was so cliche a concept and yet so fitting on a very distasteful level.

No wonder he and Harvey had been at each other's throat for the past eleven years. And then the dust settled because, perhaps in Louis's mind, she and Harvey hadn't really been what they actually were.

It made the kind of sense that had you in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh God." She sighs, sliding from the arm of the couch to the lumpy seat.

"Yep." Mike smirks, observing his friend. "He has a _heavy_ crush on you."

"I….what the hell do I do?" She gestures. "I can't...work for Harvey now. But I can't...Louis must...feel _awful_."

"It's not your fault, Donna." He says supportively.

"It doesn't matter." She says, shaking it off. "I need to fix this. How...in the _hell_ am I going to fix this,"

"I don't know, Donna. It's a hard call." He winces, taking another swig of beer.

"How did I not see this? I'm Donna…I see everything."

"Well...maybe you're just...not as much _Donna_ without a little Harvey?"

"Oh, I think I'm getting _plenty_ of Harvey right now."

"Well I meant _working_ with him...but thank you for the gross overshare."

She chuckles then. She's missed this young man in her life.

"When did you get so goddamn omniscient?" She asks, her tone motherly.

"It's easy having hindsight into other people's lives when yours is a big mess. I understand why you enjoy fixing them now."

The firm really wasn't the same without him.

And the kid is right.

Annoyingly perceptive, even through the thick curtains of his own demise.

"How are you spending your last day of year?" She asks, placing the now empty beer bottle onto the make-shift coffee table.

"Save for talking to you? With my Fiancee. In hiding. As God intended." He smiles reverently.

"That sounds good." She nods. "Okay, I have to go... _fix my own problems now_." She says, picking up her purse. "Maybe you should figure out a solution to yours too?" She offers, a dry humour there.

"Trust Me. Working on it." He tells her, giving her a salute.

* * *

 _It's not much of a life you're living_

 _It's not just something you take, it's given_

 _Round and around and around and around we go_

 _Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know_

'Stay' By Mikky Ekko and Rihanna

* * *

The harrowing task feels like pulling teeth.

And given any other option she would sooner delay such a thing until an appropriate time fell upon her more naturally than this.

New Year's Eve.

Breaking up with someone on _New Year's friggin Eve._

That had to be at least seven 'hail marys' and four broken mirrors worth of future bad luck.

She knocks on the door. She's glad that she never kept any of her things at Mitchell's.

She always wondered if there is a reason for that. Of course, it all makes sense now.

"Hey!" From the moment the door swings open his face lights up, his blue eyes catching the light above their heads as he steps forward.

She steps back, raising a hand. It's an ugly gesture.

But she can't risk walking into this apartment. He would try to kiss her. And she can't even think about how Harvey would think about that.

"What's wrong?" He frowns, noticing her standoffishness.

"We need to talk." She says, planting her feet in the ground.

His face beds slightly, his light eyebrows furrowing together. "Is everything okay?" Mitchell asks, pausing as his weight bends towards her.

"There are things I need to tell you. And you're _not_ going to like them." She starts.

* * *

He feels like the loneliest asshole in the world.

Sat in on New Year's _God damned_ Eve.

It's times like this that _anonymous casual sex_ is PERFECT for.

He wonders if she's bailed on her promise. Having not heard from her. He wonders, If tomorrow he'll wake up and learn that she's engaged to the man she promised him that she _was_ leaving.

He had called Mike and hour ago, learning that Rachel was with him in his shitty little condo having a quiet little party.

It made sense. No culprit found. No leads on his case. Just a string of dead ends and one big question to hang next to the charges above his head.

He was happy for the kid, knowing that the woman whom he loved was by him no matter what.

He never pictured himself wanting the same before.

* * *

It's a quarter past nine when his patience runs firmly out. He gets up and heads for the office.

Sometimes just taking a moment up there in office...calms him. He figures he can put on a record and sit and have a whiskey and just...think for a while. Think about everything that's happened for the past year and everything that could happen, from here on out.

He's halted when a person rounds the corner, nearly bumping into him.

"Louis," He frowns immediately.

"Oh. Harvey. What are you doing here...shouldn't you be with Donna? Or did you not past 72 hour mark without it screw it up?" He chides, a sense of irritation in the shorter man's gait.

"Can we talk...in my office." He asks, letting out a held breath at the man's presence.

"It's New Year's Eve, Harvey. I'm kind of busy," He reams off, looking impatiently about himself.

"It'll just take a sec." He offers, swallowing the need to correct the man on distinction between his truth and reality as if it's the opening to a keynote on a subject. "Please."

He pauses, before striding past him and into Harvey's office.

" _Liste_ n. I know you saw Donna and I…" He starts.

"What? No didn't. I didn't see a damn thing." He counters.

"Louis. Don't bullshit me. _You saw us_. And then you left. And now...you're making things awkward for Donna."

"What does it have to do with you? You're not her Boss anymore. **I am**. So keep your nose out of it."

The words snap his patience in half in mere seconds.

"Oh, You just don't get it, do you?" He accuses, his features sharpening.

"Get what?" Louis all but spits.

" _Donna_. You still think she's just some prize to be won, and worse than that, you actually think that you and I have been in play of that, this  entire time. But you want the real truth? No matter whatever _you think_ you feel, _ **I**_ love her. I've loved her for...over a decade, Louis. Hell, _I paid her god damn salary for years_ because _**I**_ needed her with me. You know that. And still, you've been so self-absorbed that you're the only one in this entire firm who didn't notice that fact." He pauses for effect. "Now. If you could see past that and stop blaming her because she met me before she even knew who the hell you were," He swallows the need to add even harsher points to that fact. "You'd see the truth...that regardless of what's going on with she and I, personally, she doesn't want to work for _me_ anymore. She would actually prefer to work for you, professionally. So, unless you want to lose the best secretary in the city, then I'd get over whatever this is and be a little more appreciative of her."

He turns then. Louis is the kind of guy you need to read the riot act to, and then let stew a while.

When he turns back, Louis is full to the brim.

He actually feels bad for the guy.

"You know, If I'd had ever been given the chance, i would have….never...let her go in the first place."

"You know what Louis, you're probably right." He shrugs. "I guess I'm just...one lucky son of a bitch that way."

He watches as Louis stalks out into the darkened hall.

He wonders if that guy is ever going to get it.

* * *

Something about his talk with Louis, has him tied up in a knot.

When he glides down the hall to his own office, he notices a light in a familiar room along the way.

He smirks when he sees the owner of said room come into view.

" _Little late in the year to make a difference now, wouldn't you say_?" He quips, swaggering over to his Partner, as she sits at her desk. Ever graceful. Ever prominent. Ever stoic.

"Well...we're neck deep in shit, Harvey. At this rate, I could use a hail mary." She remarks, picking up her champagne glass with a bitterness.

"I'm sure we can pull a few out of our asses." He encourages softly.

He doesn't have the weight to back up his statement. But he hopes.

Her eyes move slowly to his, a sarcasm in them. He can see that there is a bottle of champagne on ice, just under half full, but only one glass present in the room.

He lowers onto the couch, undoing the top button of his jacket and watching as she rises from her seat.

"Truth is...I think we're...finally going down." She says, wandering over to the bottle.

"Jessica," He admonishes.

 _She's never one to admit when her chips are down. This is he at her worst. Her weakest._

"Seems like we've been treading water for years now. Staving off competitors and old named partners and every dickhead with a grudge against us."

"Isn't that the game?" He offers.

"You think this is all a game?" Her eyes flash, as she walks back over to the couch.

"It's the law, Jessica...like sport, there's an element of the game to it."

"You're pretty blaze, considering the consequences we're all facing. You in particular."

His shoulders slump then. _She's right._ "Jessica." She says, sitting forward. "I know, that it's my fault this all happened. But I have to be keep myself going some how. Keep us going. And looking at the cracks isn't going to help that."

She nods. It's the only thing she can do.

She didn't cause this. She's been a bystander for so long.

"I'm sorry." He says finally.

"For what?" She enquires.

"For hiring Mike. I never should have. I don't regret it. But...I know it wasn't the right thing to do. But I'm sorry that it has us all in this position."

She takes stock of the place, judging the look in his eyes with a scrutiny.

"For what it's worth. _Trouble or not_...he's a great Lawyer. It's a shame really...to think that all he wanted was to _be_ that,"

"Especially when you consider that he actually _got in_ to Harvard." Harvey scoffs.

The irony of such a thing is cruel in nature.

She smiles then. "And yet the only fact... ** _that he didn't graduate_**...is bringing down an entire firm."

"Jessica," He admonishes again, a scolding tone in his low-reaching voice. " _The fight's not over yet_. And I may have been stupid enough to hire him, but he's smart enough to get us all out of this, we just need the right leverage. The right angle."

"I hope you're right. I hope...that the firm can recover."

" _We_ are the firm. And as long as we stick together...maybe we can get through this. Have a little faith."

"If only this were about faith." She laughs to herself, before taking another sip. Her eyes find his again, a hope where there seemed to be doubt. "I _really_ hope you're right, Harvey.." She tells him.

He's never seen her look so unsure. So scared.

He hates that he's done this to all of them. And yet he understands why Donna let him through that day.

"You're not out tonight? Spending it with a woman of the moment." She enquires.

He wonders if it all means something. Or if they are just actions with a reaction.

"Actually...I'm…" He groans at the admission. "Waiting for Donna."

"Oh yeah?" Her interest peaks immediately, her voluptuous smile bending with ripe entertainment at his words. She seems to relax, as she judges his defensive expression. "If you're about to tell me that _'it's not what it sounds like'_ , then I'm about done with that angle." She smirks knowingly.

"Actually...I'm…." He immediately feels like an exposed dick head, as he rolls his eyes at the admission. "Waiting for her...to dump her boyfriend." He lifts his chin in defence of what he assumes will be a tirade of ambiguous jibes.

"Did You. _Ask her…._ to break up with Mitchell?" She enquires, her tone on a knife edge.

"Mhm-mm." He reluctantly confirms, his back straightening as he judges her expression.

"Wow. How very.. _.conformist_ of you." She smirks. "And yet the two of you _haven't_ …" She infers, trying with all her might not to let the bend of humour overtake her rather flushed face.

He looks directly at her then, with his chin dropping and a poker faced expression at the ready. "What do you think?" He offers, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly with the subtext.

She peels with laughter then, all the colours in her voice showing in spades and more.

It's a lengthy moment before she composes herself. " _Wow_." She smiles. "So it's serious."

"Put it this way." He says, humouring her. "I don't think she'll be coming back to work for me any time soon."

"Well. Now I guess there's at least one thing to celebrate." She encourages. "Better find yourself a glass, hot shot."

* * *

That was the hardest thing Donna has done.

 _Almost as bad_ as when she left Harvey.

She's sad,

But it feels right.

And nothing that feels right is ever easy. She had learnt that the hard way.

She draws a breath, closing the main door to Mitchell's apartment.

Her heart flattens for the thought of the broken man behind her. She wanders for a block or two, letting the feelings settle.

"Scottie," she blinks against the harrowing cold, as she nearly bumps into the woman. She swallows the impulse to smile naturally, like she would have over a year ago.

Something is different, though.

 **She's** _the other woman_ now.

"Donna, Hi." The brunette greets, a warm smile touching her thin lips. "How have you been?" She asks, hugging herself against the cold.

" _Oh_ , same old same old." Donna responds, sighing dramatically. "You?"

In truth,

 _Nothing's been the same for a long while._

"Good." She smiles. "I heard about Mike." She says with a tender expression. "How's Harvey holding up?"

"He's...Holding up." She confirms.

"I...heard you're not his assistant anymore?"

"No," She nods, looking to the ground for a moment. "I'm not." She says.

Scottie nods in return, taking a moment to glance at the rushing traffic beside them.

A moment passes between them. So many words spoken in just a look.

So many questions and answers diluted.

Except one.

"You mind if I ask you why?" Scottie asks then, straightening.

"Scottie," She says, her voice blanching out at the ends. "He... **did** love you, you know?"

"I know…" She half-chuckles to herself. "He told me." She notes, before concentrating her attention at the redhead. "Why did you leave?"

As she looked into the eyes of this tiny brunette, she realises.

It's time to stop lying to herself.

"I think you know."

"Do I?" She pushes. It's the gentle expression on her face that has Donna caught for some reason.

That, and all the past reasons why this woman isn't going to let it go.

Maybe she needs it. Needs to cut the last cord left.

She straightens, readying her words.

"He told me... _that he loved me_. And that I was different. But wouldn't tell me how."

"So you did want more, after all?" Her expression changes in an instant.

It's the look that Donna was trying to avoid.

"I _really_ wanted you two to work out, Scottie." She tells her.

Scottie's eyes soften then, as she seems to lose the fire-ridden impulse. Her eyebrow quirks, as if she's considering the truth of such a statement. "I know you did." She finally says, meeting her eyes. "Can I be honest?"

"Sure. Why not." She responds, trying not to let the irony weight her words.

She wonders if this truth will hit like a bullet.

"I don't think he has a future with _any_ woman...until he at least _attempts_ to have something with you first."

"You know what Dana...I think you may be right about that." She agrees.

"Have a great New Year's Donna." She nods.

"You too." She smiles warmly.

She wants to say 'don't be a stranger'.

But she knows life is more difficult than that.

Nothing is what it used to be.

She looks down at her phone, a message flashing up.

 _Hey. Are you done? ;-) I went to the office. H x_

She knows he's been climbing the walls if he's back at work on New Years. They hadn't explicitly said anything about spending it together. She wonders if it's just...subliminal now.

She hugs her coat to herself, starting to feel the day's events weigh down on her frame of mind as she moves to the edge of the sidewalk, observing cabs.

* * *

Half an hour later, and she poking her head into his office, frowning immediately when she sees only the pitch darkness.

It's then when she hears a peel of distinctive laughter ripple out and down the hall. She narrows her eyes, following the sound.

Her shoulders drop with a smile when she spots two people sat on the rather stately yet luxurious looking couch. Two pairs of brown eyes flick to her, as she leans against the door jamb.

"Well, it sure is a party in here," She remarks, looking to her two indirect Bosses.

She notices Jessica smile rather broadly. Clearly filled with alcohol for a deceptively tiny frame. "Look Harvey," She says with mirth, as she playfully nudges his shoulder. "It's _your_ _ **girlfriend**_."

"Shut up," Harvey counters, giving his partner an unamused look. She chuckles to herself, thoroughly entertained as she rises from the seat to the beckoning champagne bottle. His expression irons out when he looks back to Donna. "Hey." He says, a crooked smile on his relaxed face.

"Hey. I did _the thing_." She

"Good." He smirks.

"I'm going to take that to mean that you dumped the famous Mitchell?" Jessica enquires in her way, settling back down on the couch with an interested look.

"Did you _have_ to tell her?" She offers, ignoring Jessica in favour of rolling her eyes.

 _Clearly it's a rhetorical question, because no one answers._

 _And it's immediately apparent that she's crashed a party that's apparently already in full swing._

"So….when you _said_ ' _I'm at the office'_?" She enquires, looking about herself for effect.

"Drink?" He asks, ignoring her point. They share a smile that's mixed with so many things unsaid. She struggles immediately with the need to kiss him.

"A big one." She requests, before moving towards him and the couch.

He nods knowingly, brushing his fingers against hers as crosses past her, over to where the glasses are.

It's subtle. And chaste. And so Harvey. She hides the smile that the gesture encourages as she quietly takes a seat.

They are changing. It's unnerving and exciting and...definate.

She feels like an animal at the zoo, when Harvey hands her a glass and Jessica is watching.

She turns to Jessica. "Can we flick to another show, please?" She jokes, allowing the humour to settle.

"Oh, come on!" Jessica says, smiling shrewdly. "You both seem to forget...I've seen you two do this for a _very_ long time."

"And," They both say in unison.

She laughs then at their twined outburst. "You should have seen him when he came back to the firm." She teases, a Motherly tone about her as she looks to Donna. "I swear if I'd have said no to you, he wouldn't be sat here today."

"That's not true." She frowns disbelievingly, giving Harvey a look.

"No, it is." Harvey confirms tiredly.

She clears her throat at the information. "Well...if anybody thought that this was going to be awkward, it's not." She jokes to the contrary.

"Good thing the cavalry's arrived!"

They look up to see Rachel and Mike stood there.

Mike pauses, unsure of his position as Jessica looks to him.

" _Come in. The more the merrier_." She says, looking to him.

You can tell by their interchange, in the look that they share.

Their relationship has grown in strides since he first became a problem to the firm.

He nods, allowing Rachel to walk in before him.

"Okay," Donna chimes in looking to the bag in Mike's hand. "I see you bought more booze."

"Harvey's orders."

"Good. Now all we need is some music." She offers, striding down the hall.

* * *

She knew in an instant when she heard the particular footsteps that it was _him_. He has a swagger in his gait that is hard to ignore the rhythm of when you've stood beside him for over twelve years.

She thinks about turning around, when suddenly the idea of being aloof is far more desirable.

His arms slide against her rib cage, pressing her against him as his nose appears at her cheek.

"Hey you."

"Hey." She smirks, placing the vinyl sleeve that she has in her hand back into its rightful position before turning around.

"How was it?" He asks her, his face cloaking his concern.

"Difficult. But it felt right." She smiles sadly.

He nods. "So...I guess...you're _mine_ , now."

She laughs then, rolling her eyes as her hands smooth into the shirt he's wearing. "Oh, if you really think that, then you're in for a big disappointment." She plays.

Truth is,

That she _is_ his.

She always was and she's not afraid to admit that now.

He slides a hand through her hair until it meets the end, letting it twirl around his finger until he lets the loose curl tumblr down her back.

"The balls about to drop." He smirks, sharing a look. "We should...head back."

"You're right." She sighs, her hands lifting to trace the contours on his face.

It's not long before his mouth slides against hers, encouraging the kind of reaction that she is all too willing to reciprocate.

* * *

It's almost incomprehensible, how just kissing her can make him feel so... _calm_. So centred.

He always knew she was an anchor. But moving their relationship up a gear, by simply _touching_ her bred itself three fold. _This stability. This focus._ He had always felt powerful when he had her. But he feels invincible now that she is finally his.

She'd probably kick his ass if she heard him speak like this aloud.

 _Lucky thing he's keeping it to himself._

 _It's the wide smile that gives it away as he gathers up her hand and a vinyl in each._

"Do you think there's time for _a little_ ," He infers with a groan.

"General?" She offers.

He laughs then, shaking his head. "Nice deflect." He says, licking his lips.

"Thankyou. I'm here all week," She says, before tugging at his sleeve. "Come on, the balls about to drop," She says, her eyes wide.

He smiles all the way to Jessica's office.

* * *

Nobody mentions Louis.

Mike had told Rachel already.

And everybody else just... _assumed_.

Louis just wasn't there yet.

Maybe some day he'd learn to cohabitate with them in a way that everybody could be happy with.

Only time would tell.

For now, they would have to settle being just five people.

Lucky for Jessica, she was far too entertained with Harvey and Donna to think of herself as the raspberry of the group.

"I want to make a toast," Harvey interrupts, his voice cutting through conversations as he looks about the room.

It's a beautiful thing. In such a suspended moment, within a very unknown situation. He readies his words with a stilling breath before he continues.

"You all know, that for me personally...it's been a...pretty hard year. I think that everybody here has had it….pretty much the same. We've been through a lot. And...next year...it _may_ be worse. **But** …" He pauses, looking to each of them. "Save for less than a handful of people...nearly everybody that I care about...is right here in this room." He lingers at Donna, a secret kind of smile. "And I hope...that no matter what happens from here on out...that _that_ never changes."

"To Family." Mike adds, raising his glass.

They each share a look. It's a poignant one.

"To Family." They chime, a mixture of sentiment and glasses chinking.

* * *

 _ **When we collide we come together**_

 _ **If we don't we'll always be apart**_

 _ **I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it**_

 _ **When you hit me, hit me hard**_

 _ **Cause you said love was letting us go against what**_

 _ **Our future is for many of horror**_

* * *

 _C'est Fini! Happy New Year People xx A xx_

 **Notes:**

I re-watched the episodes up to the Season 5 break with this.

 _It's going to be a hard road._

And Boy, are we in for a treat!


End file.
